


The Calm Before Our Storm

by 60secondstopain



Series: The Stag and His Doe [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: ALMOST Character Death, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Love, Prequel, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, cowboy being sweet on his sweetheart, dutch and hosea adopt a girl, mentions of past trauma, one big messy family, potential smut, the curious couple and their unruly kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27062323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60secondstopain/pseuds/60secondstopain
Summary: The life and death of Camille Baker.A prequel to my story Stag & Doe. These are in no order, just snippets in the life before the story.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Stag and His Doe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975123
Kudos: 7





	1. Plan Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A job gone wrong leads to a dying daughter and hopeless fathers.

This wasn’t how it was meant to happen. Dutch and Hosea had planned everything to the tee. Everything was moving smoothly. Dutch and Arthur took care of crowd control while Hosea and Camille opened the safes. They had hit the jackpot. This would cover them for a while and they could give half away.

Then Camille got shot.

They were just packing it up, Dutch giving his usual speech to wrap it up. They had begun to leave as Hosea and Camille came from the back room. One man got confident and stood up aiming a revolver at Hosea. Camille was the first to react and shoved Hosea out the way. She jolted at the gunshot that scared the people inside the bank.

Dutch and Hosea paled as they stared at Camille. Arthur came rushing in when he heard the sudden shot. Freezing when he saw the growing red stain on Camille’s abdomen.

Hosea caught Camille as she staggered forward. The shoulder bag slid down her arm, pulling her down. Arthur rushed the man with the revolver, beating him as he saw red. Camille gripped onto Hosea’s arms as he tried to keep her standing. Dutch grabbed Arthur as the crowded room began to thin out the bank entrance.

“Is it cold?” Camille asked as she clung to Hosea. Delirious and confused, Camille shook in Hosea’s arms.

“Dutch!” The shout shook Arthur and Dutch towards Hosea. “She needs help. We need to leave.”

Then I was chaos trying to evade the law. Bullets hailed down on them as they rode out into the wilderness. Hosea clung to Camille and used his own body as a shield to protect the bleeding girl.

“I’m gonna die, ain’t I?” Camille had asked as they distanced themselves from the law. Hosea couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t tempt fate with her life. Not his little girl. Hosea looked at the blood seeping through her clothes, there was a lot.

They made it back to camp. The three rushed to get Camille lay down. The panic had settled in with an iron grip. Camille came it ad out of consciousness as they worked to save her life.

“Get cloths! Anything to stop this bleeding!” Dutch shouted at Arthur as he stood clueless as to what he should do. He rushed to grab whatever he could. Hosea was already trying to find the bullet from inside Camille.

She regained consciousness as he pulled at the metal fragment. Her screams shook all three of the men around her, but it didn’t slow their efforts to save her.

She couldn’t die.

She won’t die.

Camille regained consciousness two days later. Warm, sore and cramped. She opened her eyes and groaned. Her throat was dry, a thick coat of grime lined her mouth. Her stomach ached; a dull pain lay there.

She almost died.

The reality of that scared her. Not because she would be dead, but because she would have lost the three men who were the most important source of her life.

The father’s who slept either side of her now and the blue eyed dope that she loved who rested his head by her own. The family she was given by chance but her family all the same.

Her hands moved to grip her fathers’ hands. Gripping them as best she could as she began to cry.

_Whimpering, hiccupping_. 

Those were the sounds that woke Dutch. Opening his eyes to see the young girl weeping. His hand held hers tighter, his forehead rest against her head and his heart ached for her.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He spoke, quiet but strong. “We’re here.”


	2. Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't like Camille putting flowers in his hair. Camille is tired of Arthur's shit.

“Hold still.” Camille softly scolded the young, dark haired boy that currently sat on the wooden stall between her legs whilst she sat on the makeshift table. He huffs an irritated breath as he tries to become patient with letting her play with his hair.

“How much longer do I got to sit here?” John whines as tries to turn his head to look at Camille. To which she holds onto the hair in her hands and lets him. She smiles at him and the flowers that she had been working through his hair.

“Hold still and I’ll be done.” She laughs and he rolls his eyes and turns back around to let her finish braiding his hair.

Hosea had been watching the pair for the past five minutes as John had been convinced by the young girl to let her braid his hair. He was amazed by how easily John had been persuaded by Camille, but it only showed that he was warming up to being apart of the camp.

Hosea also noticed how Arthur had been glaring daggers at John all the while Camille’s attention had been on the younger boy. He knew that before John had been brought to camp that Arthur and Camille had been inseparable. But now, Camille had to share her attention with her newest brother – even if it meant Arthur would lose some hours.

“There, all done.” Camille smiled as John stood up and turned to look back at her. She admired her work whilst John grimaced at the feeling of his hair being held in awkward positions on his head.

“I look like an idiot.” He grumbles and kicks some dirt by his foot and Camille shakes her head as she stands beside him – there being a few inches difference between them and Camille being the slightly taller one.

“Nonsense. You look handsome.” She pinches his cheek and John bats her hand off his face as she laughs.

“Truly looks more of a fool than he already is.” Arthur laughs as he approaches the pair. Camille shoots him a warning glare as John looks down at his boots.

“Arthur, you’re just jealous because I didn’t put flowers in your hair.” Camille teases him and John snickers at her comment. Arthur glares down at the younger boy and takes a step closer to him.

“Something funny boy?” He growls and John steps back and looks to Camille for help. She moves between the pair and pushes Arthur back.

“Leave him alone.” She warns him.

Hosea took this moment to walk over to the trio and stop an argument from exploding and causing them to all drift from one another.

“I for one think John is more of a man for letting Camille put little daises in his hair. I know I couldn’t sit through that torture.” Hosea speaks as he stands besides John and taps him on the head. Camille and John smile at Hosea’s words whilst Arthur just huffs in annoyance and walks off again.

Camille frowns when Arthur bumps his shoulder into John’s arm as he passed. Hosea looks at Camille with a small glint of hope in his eyes as she watches after Arthur’s retreating back.

“Don’t let him get to you, John.” Hosea tells the young boy and leaves the pair to go speak with Dutch about Arthur’s growing distaste towards John.

Later that night, John was sat with Hosea as the man tried to get John to focus on reading the book he had picked out for him. It wasn’t going that well as John was still pulling out daises from his hair.

Arthur was sat by the fire as he cleaned the revolver that Dutch had given to him a few seasons ago. Camille watched him from where she stood with Miss Grimshaw whilst they cleaned some of the bowls that had been used for the stew the camp ate. She knew that she needed to get through to Arthur about John. He was going to be apart of this family whether he liked it or not and she would be damned if he kept giving him a hard time.

She quickly excused herself as she dried her hands on her blue button up shirt. She strolled over to Arthur as he lifted his head to look up at her.

“You need to quit being such an ass.” She snaps at him. Arthur raises his eyebrows in surprise at her outbreak and puts his revolver down by his side.

“Hosea put you to this?” He asks as he stands up and looks down at her; Camille being a few inches shorter than him due to the growth spurt he had last summer.

“No. I’m doing this because I’m sick of you being an ass to the kid.” She backfires at him and puts her hands on her hips.

“He didn’t ask to become Dutch’s new favourite. Just because you’ve been here longer doesn’t mean you get to be a dick.” She continues and Arthur shakes his head in disbelief.

“Save it, Cami.” He grumbles as he picks up his revolver and goes to move back to his tent. Camille grabs his forearm and pulls him to turn back around.

“No.” She shouts at him. The argument that was growing between the pair had already caught the attention of the others around camp, but Camille continued.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. But you’re not the only one around here that needs to be taken care of. I know you don’t like that I’m not around you as much as we used to be, but he needs to know we are there for him. The kid was half dead when Dutch brought him here! And I’ll be damned if your jealously will stop me from being his friend.” With those words she stormed off to her tent to be alone. Arthur watched her walk away with a lump in his throat.

He noticed the others around camp that were staring at him, locking eyes with Dutch for a moment before he too stormed off to his own tent.

The morning after the fight, Dutch had spoken with Camille to tell her he was proud for standing up for her new brother. To which she responded that it was the right thing to do and she would do it for anyone in the camp.

Camille and John were stood by the horses as Camille taught John how to properly maintain his horse’s mane.

“Gently run the brush through.” Camille then proceeded to show him how to hold the brush and where to place his free hand. He copied her perfectly, earning her praise and smile.

The pair kept going through the care for a horse as Arthur came over and cleared his throat. Camille gave him a warning glance as Arthur turned his attention to John.

“You know how to handle one of these?” Arthur asks as he passes John one of the revolvers from his belt. John looked down at it and shook his head before looking back up at Arthur.

“Wanna learn?” Arthur smiled at the young boy and Camille felt her own smile pulling on her lips at the acceptance that Arthur was starting to have towards John.


	3. First Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first is always the worst.

They sat at the campfire together that night. A rare occasion to find them all together like this after a job. But they felt a strong tension that rippled through the night air from the youngest of the four. She smiled and she joked along with them. Singing along with their tunes, no matter how lude they were. She was trying to enjoy herself.

But they could see through it.

Behind those brown eyes was sorrow. Almost immediately after the calmness settled over them and the fire crackled into the night sky, she broke.

“I did it.” She breathed. Catching their attention immediately, raising their heads to the young girl. She dropped the bottle that had been empty for the past half an hour, letting it roll by her feet. Dragging her knees up, she rests her arms upon them, then her head upon them.

“I killed a man.” She deadpanned. “Shot him. Dead. Kaput.”

Hosea nudged Dutch as they shared the same thought. Arthur took it upon himself to move and seat himself next to Camille as she stared into the fire. He didn’t say anything to her, just sat next to her with his shoulder brushing against her own.

Her fingers started to drum against her legs, followed shortly by her bouncing her right knee. Dutch and Hosea moved to get closer to her. Needing to make her know she wasn’t alone. That the world wasn’t going to collapse and swallow her.

“I killed a man.” Camille looked up at Dutch and Hosea, her eyes searching but finding only the worried eyes of her fathers. Her shoulders started shaking. Her breath came quicker, short intakes and just a fast exhales. Her eyes became glossy as she looked back to the fire. Her throat felt dry, itchy. Her lips quivered.

Then she broke.

She buried her head into her arms. Her body shaking as she cried. Hiccupping on her tears that streamed from her eyes. The vision of the man’s dead body haunting her eyes when they closed. The sound of the gunshot and how the gun had been in her hands as the man dropped sending her further into her torment.

Arthur put his arm around her shoulders as Dutch did the same on her opposite side. Hosea knelt in front of her and gripped her hands. Letting her clutch onto him with strength he didn’t know she possessed.

“Sweetheart, you saved my life.” Dutch spoke. “You did what needed to be done.” He assured her. Camille lifts her head and looks to the man she called dad. It had been that situation that now haunted her.

Dutch would have been killed if Camille hadn’t shot first. She would grieving a much different pain if she hadn’t reacted.

“I couldn’t let you die.” Camille whimpers, tears blurring her vision. Her attention pulled to Hosea as he squeezes her hands gently. Making eye contact with her other father, she hiccups. Hosea releases her hands to cup her face in his hands. Wiping away at the tears that lingered on her skin, he said:

“Close your heart to it.”

Camille hiccupped again. Her breathing began to even out again. She closes her eyes as she wills herself to stop crying. To try and see that it was okay. That even though it was a horrible thing to have experienced, she did it for the right reasons. She wasn’t a bad person. Sometimes the worst things needed to happen for a reason. Opening her eyes again, she let her head fall onto Arthur’s shoulder. The young man rests his own cheek on the top of her head.

Dutch continues to rub circles with his thumb on Camille’s back and Hosea holds her hands again. Knowing that they were still there with her filled her with content and reassured her that everything was going to be okay.


	4. A Father's Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A father always knows when his child needs him.

Dutch couldn’t let it go. It was constantly on his mind. Even now as he sat staring across the camp to see Hosea and Camille together. How the young girl opened up to him, sharing stories of how she had survived before they took her in. The smiles and laughter shared between them. The pure and utter trust she had in Hosea.

Why didn’t she share that same trust with himself?

Camille had warmed up to everyone but Dutch. She wouldn’t sit near him if they were around a campfire. Any effort he made to talk to her, she would lower her head and become silent. If Hosea and Arthur left camp together, Camille begged them to take her with them. She avoided him at all costs as though he had the plague!

Normally Dutch wouldn’t take this kind of attitude but he didn’t want to frighten the poor girl. If he demanded to know why she avoided him, he was worried he would push her to leave just as suddenly as she’d joined. Dutch had always wanted a daughter. In the back of his mind he wondered how great it would be to have his own little girl that looked up to him. A daughter who trusted him, spoke to him, shared all her troubles with.

Camille didn’t want to be near him.

At night when he sat at the campfire, he silently watched as Camille and Arthur played with Copper. Hosea, who was seated beside Dutch, took notice of how bothered Dutch had been by Camille’s distant feelings towards him. Hosea knew how Dutch had hoped he had gotten his wish of having a daughter, but it fell short when Camille began avoiding him.

“Her father was a horrible man.” Hosea began, pulling Dutch’s attention towards him.

“What you mattering ‘bout?” Dutch asked as he turn to his friend. Hosea inclined his head towards Camille’s general direction.

“She told me how her father threw her to the streets. Told her if he saw her again he’d kill her. _Bastard_.” Hosea’s tone deepened as he spoke, venom hanging off his last word. Dutch’s brow creased and his jaw clenched.

“’s why she cuts her hair so short.” Hosea continued. Both men now watching the young girl with sympathy.

“Did it so he wouldn’t recognise her no more.” Dutch concluded, shaking his head at the thought. How could a father hate his own flesh and blood?

“She says she sees him in you.” Hosea’s words cause Dutch’s head to snap towards him again. “When we cornered her to get the money back, she thought you were her father.”

Dutch didn’t know what to say. Camille was afraid of him because of the resemblance he shared with her own father. There was a pang of anger that rose in Dutch’s chest at the thought of being compared to such a heartless bastard. But it was quickly followed by grief. Not for himself, but for her.

Dutch felt horrible for being a constant reminder to how lost she had felt when she was thrown away. He didn’t want to be a source for her despair.

The following days Dutch didn’t try to get close to Camille anymore. Letting the young girl be comfortable around camp, he didn’t want to make her remember her father.

The four had travelled into the local town to let Hose and Camille begin their schemes that had been brewing for days now. Dutch was almost surprised how much of a natural Camille was. The girl was quick with her hands and her presence was well received. She spun the locals in her webs like a widow and got away like a leopard.

Dutch was proud.

They all left the town with their pockets full and no one the wiser of what had just happened.

Dutch was the last one awake that night as he sat in his tent. Their bellies were full and their pockets overflowing. It had been a good day for them all.

But there was still something bugging him.

He sat awake with this horrid feeling floating around his chest whilst his companions snored. A nagging that kept him alert for what felt like hours, telling him that his day wasn’t over.

Then he heard it.

The quiet whimpering. Hiding behind the obnoxious snores of Arthur. They continued, followed every so often by a hiccup in breath. Dutch left his tent and made his way towards the source. The small tent that Dutch had purchased the day he was robbed by Camille – the moment he knew he would protect her.

He knelt down by the flap and listened again as the young girl inside wept. Dutch thought for a moment about waking Hosea so that he could comfort her in her moment of need. But then he saw inside the tent. How Camille had curled in on herself, hands holding her sides and face red with tears. Dutch knew in that moment she needed a parent.

Ducking into the tent, Dutch called to her softly. Camille still cried, clinging to herself. Dutch sat hopeless for a moment watching her ball her eyes out. He didn’t know why she was crying but he wanted to sooth her of her pain.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. Placing his hand on her head and letting his fingers glide through her short locks. He sat closer to her, his knee barely touching her arm. He continued to comb her hair with his fingers. Camille didn’t pull away from his touch, instead she welcomed it. Pushing herself up, she stared at Dutch with puffy eyes. Dutch felt his heart break for the girl.

Camille moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest. Dutch pulled her into his embrace, cradling the back of her head and running his free hand along her back.

They sat this way until Camille was finally free of her tears. She felt weak and exhausted. She moved again to rest her head on Dutch’s thigh and lay down on her bedroll. Dutch used the tent’s beam to support his back and let his fingers slide through Camille’s hair again. Soon after Camille fell back to sleep and Dutch felt himself slip into darkness.

Hosea was the first to wake the next morning. He yawned and stretched as he got out of his tent. He noticed the emptiness of Dutch’s tent when he looked over to it. Glancing around Hosea also noticed the awkward angle that Camille’s tent was bending to one side. Upon closer inspection Hosea found his missing friend. Sat up right asleep as his hand rested in Camille’s hair, as the young girl rested on Dutch’s leg. Hosea smiled at the sight knowing that Dutch had gotten his daughter and Camille had found her father.


	5. Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hosea leaves. Dutch doesn't know what to do when his daughter spirals out of control.

Camille was scared. Hosea sensed that when he asked if she wanted to leave. He and Bessie were leaving. Camille didn’t understand why. She thought everyone was happy in their messy family. But here was Hosea, sat with her in her tent asking her to join himself and Bessie in leaving.

Leave behind the dangerous life they led. A life that cost Camille her life almost, scarring her body with bullet and knife wounds. A life that demanded so much from her that it was draining her in their goals for freedom.

Leave behind the life that had given her the chance to be something. A life that had given her a family that fought with her and followed her. This life that given her so many memories around a campfire or riding through the west.

Could she leave all that?

“Hosea, I…” Camille’s mouth hung open, words hiding in her moment of need. She tried to talk again but nothing would form. How could she make this decision? Either answer would kill her. No matter the response she would be losing her family. Losing everything that kept her going, that kept her chest full of life.

She couldn’t choose.

Hosea pulled her into his arms then. He knew the answer that she couldn’t say. Camille cried, clinging to her father. Hosea clung to her. Clung to the memory of her in his arms. All the words they shared as father and daughter. The times they laughed, cried and ran. He clung to his daughter. Prayed that maybe one day he would get this chance again. That one day he would be able to laugh with her again, to see the woman she would become. So he clung to his daughter.

When Hosea and Bessie left, Dutch regarded his old friend and bid him well. Offering his home would always be here. Arthur begged him to stay. Hosea had looked to Camille but she didn’t once raise her eye or speak a word. Her expression was stoic and her eyes were on her own hands. There she held the locket Hosea had gifted her for her last birthday.

*** 

In the time that Hosea left, Camile had grew to become cold again. She withdrew herself quite a bit from Dutch, Arthur and even Susan. Jobs were violent. The young girl seemed to have a death wish of some kind. Walking headfirst into danger, causing trouble whenever she went. This prompted Dutch to snap and demand what was going through her head on numerous amounts.

“You are endangering not only yourself but everyone! Everything we’ve built! Get your act together or you will have a death wish when I’m done!” Dutch had yelled at her. Camille had bowed her head the entire time. This wasn’t what she wanted but it was all she could give.

She eventually reigned in her anger and took care on jobs again. But it still lingered. She would ride on her through the woods or anywhere that was vacant. Once secluded from everyone, she’d scream. As loud as she could. Head up in the air, eyes staring at the night sky and she would scream. Trying to get her head to be silent and for her chest to feel whole again. Let her voice become so strained she couldn’t talk before she’d go back to camp. She and Arthur argued more too. It was always petty arguments that would lead to Dutch or Susan breaking them apart.

Dutch never knew what to do after Hosea’s departure. He couldn’t be there like he once was for his daughter but to hell was he letting her go down a path of self-destruction. He kept her from doing anything stupid but he also felt like he was losing her. He knew how she would ride out and come back with a strained voice – he knew she wanted to feel something. But how could he fill that hole that Hosea left? Dutch didn’t know what to do. But he wouldn’t lose his daughter. He had to keep fighting for her. To get her to feel again.

*** 

Camille had been out of camp the entire day again. She slid off the saddle of her horse and was called over to Dutch’s tent. She knew he was about to make them go through the same process they had the last few months. Dutch knew she wouldn’t be able to talk. Camille had ridden further out that day and screamed until she lost breath. Her throat was in agony but her mind felt quiet once again.

She approached Dutch’s tent, her eyes were cast down and she waited. Waited for his harsh tone. _Where have you been?_ That would be followed by a softer tone. _Camille this isn’t healthy. I can’t help unless you talk to me._

“Camille.”

That wasn’t Dutch’s voice. Why did it sound familiar? Fill her chest with hope and make the shade that clouded her world with grey fade? She lifted her gaze. White hair and kind eyes were what awaited her.

Hosea.

Camille choked on the air. Coughing, making her throat feel worse. Both Dutch and Hosea moved to catch her as she almost collapsed.

“Take it easy, kiddo.” Hosea spoke and it was like music to her ears. This was real. He was here. He rubbed her back and held her hand as she coughed. He held her as she passed out from exhaustion.

Hosea and Bessie tended to Camille, putting her in own tent. Dutch explained how she had spiralled again in their absence. Hosea could see the toll it had taken on his friend too. His eyes looked weary, tired. Camille was thinner and her expression had been so hollow when she first came into the tent. It weighed heavy on Hosea. He had caused her so much pain in his selfish actions. He knew he couldn’t go straight and give up everything he was. Bessie had seen he couldn’t do it and they agreed it was only right to come back.

Hosea sat with Camille the entire night. Arthur had all but fell over himself as he had run to Hosea. Hugging the older man and clinging to him. Hosea returned his affection, assuring him that it was okay. Everything was okay. Arthur joined him in staying in Camille’s tent, moving to lay beside her and slept. Hosea sat watch over his family and promised himself he would never abandon them again. His place was with them and he wouldn’t mess that up ever again.


	6. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the curious couple and their unruly son gained a daughter.

The town was mundane. Almost everyone that lived here were simple, hard-working folk. There was enough money floating around between them all and the citizens were fit and healthy.

Which made it perfect for the three outlaws.

They arrived at the town with hopes of just passing through after a night’s rest. But then Hosea and Dutch found it was almost too easy to tangle the town’s people in their tales and lies. It all seemed like easy pickings. Hell, Hosea had even got Arthur to air him in a small dress-up.

Arthur made it clear he would not be doing it again.

Three new additions to the town didn’t cause for much attention – especially as they seemingly got away with anything. But to the young girl dressed in rags and whose body lacked the nutrition to aid her appearing feminine, the three outlaws were new targets.

Whilst the town’s people knew her as the bastard child who stole food or money from their good homes, these men knew nothing of her. She could play them enough to get something of value to help fill the ache in her stomach. She’d have o be smart about it though. After watching them through one evening, she realised how swift they worked. They were smart, quick and worked well with one another.

She had watched how the blonde haired man had been doing most of the talking. Pulling the attention of the people and keeping their eyes on where he wanted them to be. The younger, dark haired man charmed the women. He was a handsome man and didn’t take many of his words to have them hooked. Between them they could easily distract crowds whilst their sandy haired companion picked the pockets of those unfortunate enough to be caught in their web of deceits.

It would have to be something simple. Maybe even better if she got to one without the others around. But which one? She could go for the youngest, but if he caught onto what she was doing then running wouldn’t save her.

The dark haired man reminded her of why she was here in the first place. The way he stood above others and the threatening undertones of his grin. No she couldn’t choose him.

Which left the blonde man. He seemed the most experienced out of the three and would know if he was stolen from. But. If she were quick enough, he wouldn’t be able to catch her.

So she would have to be quick. Running. She could run into him and in the moment of confusion she could swipe the pocket watch from his breast pocket. She’s done this before so she knew what to do. But the hunger that laboured in her stomach stirred the nerves within her.

Time for rational thinking. That pocket watch could be sold at the fence and keep her going for at least another week. Hell even a bath to clean the mud and grime that layered her skin.

She could do this.

The trio separated, now was her chance. She followed the blonde man at a distance until she saw the opportunity to run.

Crashing into him she began the slurred lines of an apology. She stole the watch as she directed his attention elsewhere, then she took off. She ran and ran until he wouldn’t even know where to search.

She clutched the pocket watch in her hands and panted for her breath in an alley. She wasn’t far from the fence now; she would be rich once she caught her breath. Lifting the watch to inspect it was the moment her heart fell into her stomach.

There was an engraving on the back from a woman called ‘Bessie’. Whoever this woman was proclaimed her love for the man with those three similar words.

She let her arms go slack at this realisation. She’d stolen something more valuable than money. This could’ve been the man’s only valuable item. Could’ve been the last thing to remind him of this Bessie.

And she’d stolen it.

The worst thing about being a thief was to have a conscience – boy, did she know this. But she’s only a kid. She wasn’t meant to be a thief. But fate had dealt her this hand and seemed to have more in store for her.

“Hand it over kid.” She jolted up right at the deep rumble beside her. _Shit_. The trio were blocking her only escape from the alley – they didn’t look pleased.

They appeared enormous compared to her height. Dark shadows lined their features and light hit the revolvers that lay on all their hips. They could easily leave her for dead and no one would bat an eye. She really was alone.

The dark haired man strode towards her and her body went cold. Her father. He was going to find her. No, no, no. This wasn’t her father. It couldn’t be. He doesn’t want to see her. She quickly bowed her head, chin resting near her chest. Hiding her face under the dirtied flat cap on her head.

_Please don’t._

_I’m sorry._

She held the pocket watch out and flinched when he took it from her hands. She didn’t look up. She couldn’t look up. Her eyes were full of tears. Her body shook with her quiet whimpers. Her throat burned. She couldn’t look up.

Hosea watched the youth with a curious eye. Dutch had taken the watch back from them without so much as a word. They were submissive almost. Something screamed at him in the back of his mind that something wasn’t quite right. Even through the rest of the day, there was a pang of worry in his bosom.

Then the following day as they were preparing to leave the town, did he understand this feeling.

He, Dutch and Arthur were getting their saddles prepared for the ride a head of them. Hosea heard the shouting before he saw the cause. It was a woman screaming that was followed closely by a man’s shouts and curses. To his surprise it was the young thief from yesterday who was screaming. The town’s shopkeeper had her by her unusually short hair as he stormed out of his store. Hosea was appalled as the man threw the girl to the ground with quite some force.

As though he were possessed and deaf to the calls from Dutch, Hosea strode over and stopped the man before he could haul more abuse at the poor child.

“I think they understand.” He spoke with a stern tone. Standing between the man and the young girl, Hosea glared at the man. The shopkeeper waved his hand dismissively before he retreated back inside his store.

Hosea bent down to pick up the dirty flat cap from the ground before he looked to the girl. She was thin, almost dangerously thin. Her skin was covered with dirt, when was the last time she cleaned? She wore trousers not a skirt or dress, was she hiding her identity? She had the appearance of a young boy, which would explain why the shopkeeper treated her as such. She stared at Hosea with uncertainty, recoiling when he held out her hat to her.

“Where’s your home, kiddo?” He asked her, tone soft and his worry evident in his gaze.

“You’re looking at it.” Her accent wasn’t what he expected, nor how harsh her tone was.

“British?” He rose a brow at her. “Why’s your home the mud? Where’s your parents?”

“Don’t got any.” Her response short and she finally took her hat from his outstretched hand. She gets up on her feet as Hosea stands as well.

“You at least got a name?” Hosea teased.

“Camille.”

“A British girl with a French name and no home.”

“No need to rub it in, old man.” Hosea couldn’t help but laugh at this. The girl was a little spitfire.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Camille.” Hosea once again stuck his hand out, this time meant for a greeting. “I’m Hosea, but ol’ man works too.” Camille stare at his hand for a moment before timidly grasping and shaking it.

“Sorry about your watch.” Camille mutters as she releases Hosea’s hand.

“Why didn’t you sell it?” Hosea asks and it seems to startle Camille. Her brow lifting in surprise and her cheeks growing red before she looks down to her boot covered feet. “You went through a lot of trouble following me.” Again Camille looks up at him. “You’re technic needs some work but why didn’t you sell it?” Camille muttered something unintelligible.

“Anytime now, ol’ girl!” Dutch’s calls made Hosea turn to look at his friend as he climbed up on his horse’s saddle. Hosea turned back to Camille and asked her to repeat herself.

“Because it’s more valuable than money.” She looked him in the eyes as she spoke. “It wasn’t right to do that. I would’ve given it back but you found me first.”

Hosea knew in that moment that he couldn’t let this girl stay here alone. He needed to help her. Help her see her true potential and escape whatever fear was keeping her trapped as a beggar in town that treated her so harshly. She wouldn’t make it to her adult years if she kept getting caught.

“What’d you say, ‘bout joining me and my friends?” Hosea proposed. “I can help you learn how to get fed without getting caught. Hell, gives you a better home than this town will give you.” Camille seemed to consider this for a moment before she shook her head.

“Sorry, but I can’t. Your offer is great but I ain’t worth it.” Camille begins to step away from him.

“Then take this.” Hosea held out his pocket watch to her.

“It’s yours, I couldn’t-“

“I insist.” Hosea pressed the cool metal into Camille’s hand, holding it there as he spoke. “Sell it, keep it. Do what you think is right.” He released her hand and began to walk over to Dutch and Arthur.

“After all that, you gave it back?” Dutch asked, more confused than anything with his old friend.

“Got a good feeling about it.” Hosea smiled, settled himself on his horse and glanced back over to Camille. Tipping his hat down in a farewell before he followed after his companions.

The trio set up camp that night and sat around the fire. Arthur was busy practising his writing in his journal, Dutch was roasting the rabbits Hosea had caught over the fire. Hosea sat thinking. He had hoped that through the day that Camille would’ve caught up with them and accept his offer. But that didn’t seem to be what the girl had decided. Hosea only hoped the best for her.

“Still thinking about the kid?” Dutch asked, staring at his friend across the fire.

“Just holding onto the hope she doesn’t stay in that town.” Hosea responds.

“It’s her choice, friend. We need to respect it, not everyone wants to be saved.” Hosea hums in response to Dutch.

They fell into silence again as Hosea tried to distract his thoughts.

“Sweet Jesus!” Dutch exclaimed. Shooting up from his crouched position as Arthur aimed his gun at the figure that spooked Dutch.

“Don’t shoot!” Camille begged, throwing her hands up in defence. Arthur lowered his gun as Hosea stood up. Dutch held his hand over his heart looking slightly bewildered at Camille. The girl lowered her hands when the threat of a gun was taken away. She reached into her pocket and pulled out Hosea’s watch and took small steps towards the older man.

“Figured you weren’t coming.” Hosea smiles as Camille stops in front of him. She looks over to Arthur and Dutch before looking up at Hosea again.

“Did you mean it?” Camille asks. “You’ll help me?”

“Of course.” Hosea assures.

Camille holds his watch out to him and he thanks her as he takes it back from her. He notices that her boots now had holes in and were pretty much disposable. She had walked the entire way to follow them and ask for their help. Hosea shared a look with Dutch – who silently thought this was the older man’s revenge for when he had brought Arthur back into this strange little family.


End file.
